His Pretense
by TheRaven'sComputerDesk
Summary: She was just as beautiful in his keeping as she was on stage.


Jacob looked up dejectedly, eyes dark, and intently trained on the girl. His sad gaze turned heated, fierce even, when they fell upon the handsome young suitor standing before her. Her doe eyes blinked wondrously at him, the unchanging youth, the undeniable beauty, Dorian Gray himself. His hand boldly brushed her jaw, slim fingers tracing the pulse of her neck to her collarbone, and she blushed violently. She was innocence, purity and all that was light, how dare the impudent prat touch her like that, and in public! _The caresses of a lover are best kept for the secrecy of the marriage bed. _He thought bitterly. _And for the married!_

"Sybil! Come, it is best we be on our way. The hour is…late." Jacob Marley growled, huffing impatiently as he glanced at the face of his pocket watch. Half past nine. He tucked the unique metalwork back into his breast pocket. His raven hair threatened to draw loose from its tight binding at the base of his neck as his hands tightened; he quickly hid them behind his back. Attempting a calm demeanor, he seemed to the inattentive eye in perfect standing, but as Sybil met his gaze she knew what she was in for as she moved away from her ever youthful beau. She peeked over her shoulder to get one last look at her Prince Charming, a red tint still visible on her delicate cheeks. When she turned, though, all she received was the sight of him slipping silently through the back door of her dressing room, without any evidence of hesitation. Jacob saw from the corner of his stormy, grey eye the frown that marred her beautiful face, and more curses to the immortal rose in his mind, though outwardly he showed none of it. Sybil shyly linked her arm to his, glancing quickly to see any hint of disapproval in the tempest of his gaze, to which she saw none. Before resting her head against his shoulder as they made their way to the carriage, she admired the strength of his jaw, the trimness of his sideburns, and how his sharp, yet comforting face gave her a warmth in her stomach and heart that she could not call upon to name.

They stepped outside the Paris Opera House to an onslaught of maddening rain, Sybil clinging desperately to her guardian. He looked down at her from his impressive height, a questioning eyebrow quirked. She shook her head in silent refusal and worried wrinkles into his black lapel with her small fingers, as she tried pushing him back into the Opera House.

"Maybe the rain will let up? Please, Mr. Marley, do not make us walk in it, I'll catch something!" She pleaded frantically, eyes reflecting the street lamps in their terrified, green vastness as she gazed into the street, tracing the path the small rivers on either side of the black pavement created. She looked up into his eyes once again, imploringly, and squeezed his arm.

"Child, you will be fine. Hold close to me, the carriage is just on the other side of the road. You will get wet, but catch an illness you shall not." He smiled gently at her then, encouragingly. She frowned even more, and then searched with squinted eyes for the buggy that would hopefully provide her some amount of comfort on the way back to Jacob's estate. The cover of night concealed the jet black coach, as well as the equally colored horse, and she simply assumed that the large gap between the other stagecoaches had to be where theirs was waiting. Sybil knew she would never understand her keeper's desire for all things dreary and shadowed, but the sinister effect most people felt from the clerk's sense of fashion she felt none of, for she knew what Marley was truly about. Most of the time.

He drew his arm about her, cursing himself as a hypocrite for the intimate touch, and stepped reluctantly into the downpour. His blonde companion clung to him, and he took the brunt of the weather, but she did not escape it entirely. She felt the familiar dragging feeling coming from the quickly soaked bottoms of her dress, and buried her face into Jacob's chest, gritting her teeth as the stinging cold crept up her legs. When they finally reached their carriage, Jacob had to practically lift her off of himself and into the cabin, not entirely escaping her grip, and being forced into the buggy through her side rather than walking to the other like a proper gentleman.

"Sybil, we're inside. You may let go of me, now." He drolled, trying to appear casual and uncaring, when in reality he ached to touch her, to hold her just as she clung to him now. _To stroke her hair, and kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her rosy-pink petal lips, her long swan neck, the pale rise of her chest and bosom, and…_ He was caught off guard, pulled from his thoughts when she adjusted herself in his arms, sat up, and righted herself.

"I'm soaked through to the bones, Monsieur! Surely, I will catch something!" She pulled her wetted gloves from her hands, finding it difficult as they dragged on her skin. "Oh, Mr. Marley, look! My beautiful dress, ruined! Look at the lace, just look! I hate this weather…" Sybil crooned, hands tracing the once delicate fabric. She looked mock-pleadingly into his eyes, feigning a cry of despair. He smiled again, and took one of her small hands into his own two large, long, slender fingered ones, feeling the ice cold flesh as he cupped it. He brought the bundle to his lips, and gently blew warm air into his closed hands, and felt stars explode in the back of his mind, chest and loins as Sybil's eyes fluttered closed, and she made a soft noise one could only describe as a mewl. After he had finished with the other one, he was simply elated to find that she did not pull away from his grip, and they sat in contented silence the remainder of the ride back to Marley's large house, her hand in his, fingers entwined.

After nearly a half an hour of sluggishly trailing the streets of Paris, the carriage pulled to a sudden halt in from of a gloomy looking manor, the Friesian pulling it audibly puffing his protest, large hooves striking heavily against the cobblestones. Jacob felt his young charges' head bob in the mingling of sleep and awareness against his shoulder. He looked down at their intertwined hands and slowly the corners of his lips turned up, once again. But quickly, he remembered his driver sitting above, waiting for their exit. And then, he also realized that this girl - this child – was surely already taken by that Dorian Gray. What right did he have to touch her? How could she even show him affection when she had that perfectly masculine, handsome man to faun on? Surely, he could never live up to those standards. Immediately, Jacob's hand pulled away from hers. He scowled bitterly, and sat up, pushing the door open, and Sybil fell to the side with the sudden absence of her guardian, nearly tumbling out of the carriage with a yelp. She caught herself on the frame, blonde locks tumbling over her shoulders.

"Mr. Marley?" She questioned, eyebrows knitted in confusion, lids still heavy with weariness. He stood stiff at the door of the carriage, gentlemanly and aloof, eyes dark and without emotion. She felt a coldness penetrate her through to her core from that gaze, as if she had done something wrong. She hung her head and stepped dejectedly from the buggy, gathering her skirts before hopping out, with no help from her keeper. They began the dreary walk to his home, the thundering hooves of Cesar, the great Friesian that pulled Marley's cart echoing around the empty grounds as he and his driver made their way to the stables. She saw the faint outline of Jacob's shadow encompassing her as he loomed barely a pace behind her, the fog of midday swirling around them, clearing for only a moment with each step, then quickly rushing back in to fill the emptiness.

Sybil crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hold some amount of warmth inside her from the frigid air that so easily penetrated her still damp dress. She shivered, sniffling partially out of frustration at herself, but also because of Jacob's sudden mood. What had she done? What could she have possibly done to deserve his abruptly despondent nature? She glanced back, green eyes wide and shining with the threat of tears. His gaze met hers, solemn and still cold. He looked away after a moment, suddenly more interested in the stone beneath their feet rather than his young charge. She turned back, tears silently streaming down her face, leaving moist lines on her porcelain cheeks.

When she met the door, Sybil stood somberly to the side, not allowing Jacob to see her face. If he wanted to treat her like this without reason, then she wouldn't give him her tears. He still wasn't far behind, his keys jangling on their ring as he unlocked the door. He stood out of the way, allowing her entrance before himself. She brushed past him without a word, and fixed her gaze on the ground, face hidden behind a curtain of blonde. A wisp of lavender and rosewater wafted to his nose as she passed. It made him unconsciously lean after her, his dark eyes closing briefly to take in as much of her as he could. Oh, how he loved her. And, oh, how it pained him to see her so distraught, all because of him. He knew her small, stifled hiccups and sniffs where from her tears, he'd known her far too long to misinterpret them.

Before she could go any farther, his arms wrapped around her midsection, damning all propriety to the deepest recesses of whatever Hell certainly awaited him. When she fell back against him, he felt the first of many subdued sobs finally set free. Jacob stumbled until he felt the ground beneath him, and Sybil firmly pressed into his chest. Her head fell back against his shoulder as she wept, and she turned her face into his neck, arms dangling uselessly at her sides. He held her flush to his body, the curve of her back matching his chest perfectly. One arm locked unyieldingly around her waist, unused hand of the other tangling softly through her silken hair.

"Shhh, Sybil, shhh…it is alright." He whispered against her ear. She returned with a sob, obviously unconvinced. "What has upset you so?"

"What has upset me so? Jacob!" Taken aback by the abrupt usage of his first name, when typically the girl only addressed him formally, the man in question stiffened. Sybil went on, persistent to struggle against his grip, even as he was much stronger than she. "Jacob, _you've_ upset me so! _You_, with your sudden, silent sadness! You build me up when I perform and see your handsome face staring so approvingly from the audience, and then shatter my heart when you so quickly change your emotions!" She sighed, and resigned to simply lie against his chest as she went on, too exhausted from crying to struggle with the person she wanted so desperately to understand.

"It confuses me. It hurts me to know that I'm the cause of this change in you, and my heart cannot take it any longer!" Jacob felt the harsh trembling from the small girls' body mixing with his own, and he held her all the tighter, allowing her to cry, allowing her to brake open and spill her tidal wave of overwhelming grief on him. He'd be the rocky shore that her gale of emotion thrust upon. He'd let her sob against him until she stopped or slept, whichever came first. And then he was sure he'd hold her even longer.


End file.
